


dirkuu/dirkborn drabbles

by Elendraug



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4570323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/pseuds/Elendraug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a devilfluffing repository</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sleepy cuddles when they're at a point that real sleep is possible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FreakyHumanShit (Maim)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maim/gifts).



> these guys can always use more cute shit so here you go
> 
> thanks as always to the usual suspects for indulging me while I run my mouth about this pairing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDqNL0js0iU)

If Caliborn had hair, Dirk would be petting it.

There's still a lot of comfort to be found in resting his hand on the side of his face, where his cheekbone presses into Dirk's palm. He's half-asleep, which is a phrase that has additional unpleasant connotations for both of them, but Dirk's never seen him so at ease. Dirk lets out a huff of breath, amused with himself for even thinking such a cliché fucking thing, but he's alone in his own head for once, and maybe, just maybe, he's goddamn allowed.

Dirk kicks the "table stickball" sheets away from his feet. LOTAK isn't nearly as hot, humid, or miserable as Atlantis, Texas had been, but he's grown accustomed to having his toes exposed to the air. When he moves, one foot brushes against one of Caliborn's, and fuck if the cool metal on his skin isn't nice. Caliborn doesn't have to sleep with it, and they both know that, but Dirk suspects it's loaded with its own extra significance. He isn't about to give him shit about it, that's for sure.

Caliborn's fingers clench in the fabric of Dirk's tank top, at the small of his back, then relax. His arm stays curled around Dirk's waist, draped over his hip in a way that's far more reassuring than the embrace of a floppy puppet limb. No offense to the C-man, but not much compares to having the real Cal here, in person.

Even drifting off, Caliborn echoes the sentiment.

"I'm glad you're with me."

It's so quiet, Dirk almost doesn't catch it. He's used to being hyperaware of sound, though, and smiles at him, even though Caliborn's got his eyes closed.

Dirk shifts closer, slips his own arm around to hold him, his fingertips resting on his shoulder. He leans in to press a kiss to his forehead, with a tenderness he still needs to get acclimated to.

"I'm glad, too, dude."


	2. candy corn tooth jokes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you have two totally optional music choices, they're not particularly significant but it's what I had on while writing
> 
> [♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UzoiQNvwf2E) & [♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-Hv2ZVYm7A)

"That wouldn't work."

"Yes, it would."

Dirk rolls his eyes behind his shades and can't stop himself from smiling. "I'm just saying, there's no way you could use a piece of candy as an implant. Shit's more complicated than that."

"For your information, smartass," Caliborn begins, his hands raised to gently take Dirk's hands into his own, to untangle them from where he's got his arms crossed over his chest, "I'm here to tell you that's exactly how it works."

"So what, you just... kinda shove it up into your gumline?" Dirk scoffs. He laces his fingers with Caliborn's, but keeps his weight shifted back, stays sitting on Caliborn's thighs. "And it won't fall out?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you." 

Caliborn tugs at Dirk's hands, a gentle movement to encourage him closer. Dirk allows himself to be drawn forward, but pulls one hand away to brace his elbow against the bed, to support himself.

His shades are tilted on his nose. Caliborn reaches up to carefully push them back into place. He holds eye contact with Dirk through the lenses, and trails his fingertips further to brush through Dirk's bangs. 

Dirk settles his weight on top of him, and tilts his head towards the hair-petting. "Did you fucking set this shit up just to make a 'sweet tooth' joke?"

" _No._ "

Dirk grins. "No?"

Caliborn glances away for a moment, then back to Dirk, sly. "Maybe."

Dirk laughs, short and genuine. "Pretend I'm feeding you some kind of sugar-related pickup line, then." 

"I eat that shit up, and you know it."

"Yeah." He leans in, smirking, fond. "Remind me to show you _Twisted Metal_ later."

"Is that a game?"

"Yes, and you'll love it."

Caliborn starts to say something, but abruptly cuts off his own sentence. He lifts his chin and looks to Dirk for confirmation, for reassurance.

Dirk squeezes his hand, and closes his eyes when Caliborn resumes touching his hair and his face, as delicately as he'd work with a tiny sculpted crown for a chess piece, or steady a wire to support a clay figure. 

"Dirk?"

"Hm?"

There's a long moment of quiet between them, and Dirk starts to open his eyes again to see what's up when Caliborn kisses him, just above his upper lip, off to the side but not quite to his cheek. The corner of his mouth quirks up.

"Careful," Dirk cautions. "The shades are sharp."

Caliborn hovers just shy of kissing him again, and speaks against his jawline. "I'll risk it."


End file.
